


Seconds

by catteeth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cheating, Consensual Kink, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteeth/pseuds/catteeth
Summary: Yuuri fulfills Victor's cheating fantasy. (Or: in four vignettes, how this year's Grand Prix banquet is entirely different.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Original Male Character(s), Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64
Collections: Yuri on Ice kink meme collection





	Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Written (rather loosely) for a yurionicekink prompt, as seen [here](https://yurionicekink.dreamwidth.org/881.html?thread=335217#cmt335217).

0.

It starts like this: a silver medal, a celebration bottle of Dom Pérignon. Barcelona. Victor tipsy, pulling Yuuri onto the hotel bed, kissing him and getting him hard. A finger working at his hole.

“I’ve been thinking about something for a while,” Victor whispers into Yuuri’s ear, his breath hot against his earlobe. “Something I want you to do.”

A few drinks makes Yuuri’s thoughts hazy, and Victor on top of him makes them hazier. He rolls his hips against Victor’s thigh. “Hmm?”

Victor pushes Yuuri’s abdomen and pins him, holds his thighs so he can’t move. It’s cute when Yuuri whines, when he can’t get what he wants. It only makes it better for him in the end. Sometimes, Victor wants something like that too. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says again.

Yuuri nods. “Tell me.” Anything to feel the friction back on his cock. “I’d do anything for you.”

Victor grabs his face and kisses him. “You’re perfect. Did you know that?” 

1.

Yuuri does his best to stay sober as Victor eyes him all night from across the banquet hall. He says it’s to keep a tally on his drinking, but Yuuri knows it’s something else. It’s obvious he gets off on watching.

There are a few rules. No Russian skaters or coaches, and not Chris. No one Victor has slept with before, and no one that works in the media. He vets the rest of the attendees by groups, yes or no.

Yuuri strikes out with most of them. First, Otabek, who excuses himself and clings to Yurio, and then JJ, who laughs and tells Isabella. It’s harder than he thought—many people know he isn’t single.

At the end of the drink table stands an older man, about six foot and of European descent. His hair, though full, is on the cusp of turning gray, and his suit is immaculately tailored in a way that accentuates his broad shoulders. On his left hand, he wears a single silver band; the right delicately holds a champagne flute. Yuuri vaguely recognizes him as one of the Grand Prix coordinators.

Yuuri glances in his direction and shoots him a smile. The man raises his glass.

2.

His hotel room is one floor above the one Yuuri shares with Victor, the room off by only a number. 

It’s a luxury suite with two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a living area, and near the main window sits a dining table with a bottle of Merlot. The room is immaculate with no visible luggage besides crisp linens hanging from an open coat closet. A man of luxury, Yuuri guesses, hopping from event to event. 

Gesturing at the table, the man invites Yuuri to sit down. “What would you like to drink? I have wine and...” He opens the mini-fridge to reveal a row of pre-stocked one-shotters. “Liquor.”

Yuuri sits and looks out at the city. It’s late, but the lights of Barcelona are still bright beneath him. “Oh, I—I’m fine,” he replies. He already feels drunk off the adrenaline of being alone with someone who isn’t Victor. 

The man closes the fridge and pours himself a glass of Merlot. For the first time, Yuuri notices how handsome he is. Fit for what he assumes to be mid-forties, and a pleasant face. Not Victor, but attractive nonetheless.

“Have you done this before?” the man asks.

Yuuri isn’t sure what _this_ means. Having sex with a man? Yes. Cheating on his fiancé with a stranger? No. Either way, he nods.

“Good.”

They kiss with Yuuri still seated in the chair, and for the first time, he tastes someone who isn’t Victor. It feels almost wrong, like he’s really cheating, but he thinks of Victor last night, sucking out the last bits of his orgasm, wanting this so bad he couldn’t stand it. Yuuri lets himself relax into the kiss.

The man ends up fucking him hard against the glass, high above the swathe of city lights and stars.

3.

Yuuri’s hands shake as he slides the key card into the door. He can smell himself beneath his clothes, a sick scent of jizz, spit, and sweat. It’s been over three hours since he left. 

Inside, Victor sits upright on the bed fiddling with his phone in the dark. He tosses it on the nightstand when the door clicks open.

“I’m going to go clean up,” Yuuri calls to him, halfway to the bathroom. “I’m gross.”

“No. You’re not.” Victor grins. He’s visibly half-hard already.

The newness of the situation makes Yuuri’s heart flutter. Victor’s serious, he can tell, and he lets himself be pushed backward onto the bed. When Victor nips at his neck, he shivers.

“I can smell him on you. Get naked and turn around—I want to see.” 

Yuuri’s legs tremble as he takes off his clothes and positions himself. It’s embarrassing to be exposed like this, his ass in the air, the remnants of another man’s orgasm dripping out and down his legs. When Victor flips on the bedside lamp, Yuuri flushes. He knows how he must look. 

“You don’t even know how hot you are,” Victor says. Yuuri's opening glistens in the warm light, slippery with stale lube and come. Victor spreads his cheeks wider to tongue him. “You’re so wet you don’t even need any prep. How big was his cock that you’re so loose, I wonder?” 

The eroticism of his words shocks Yuuri. “Bigger than you,” he mumbles into the pillow.

“Hmm? Speak up.”

Yuuri turns red all the way down to his neck. Is it really okay to say these things? “Bigger than you," he says louder.

“Tell me the truth, how was it?” Victor lines up his cock and slips in with no effort. "Better than me?"

“Amazing,” he starts, and then rambles. Victor’s steady rhythm keeps him talking until he comes for a second time that night.

4.

In the morning, Victor wakes up early to order room service. Yuuri groans and pulls the covers so far over his head that he disappears. An hour later, he rouses to Victor tearing the sheets off him and the smell of fresh coffee and maple syrup. They eat breakfast in the nude, the cart pushed flush with the bed. It’s their last full day in the city.

“How is it?”

Yuuri’s mouth is stuffed full of half-eaten pancake. “Good,” he muffles before swallowing and reaching for his coffee. “Japanese pancakes are usually a little fluffier, though.”

Victor puffs out his cheeks and pinches Yuuri in the stomach. “Yeah, like you’ll be in this upcoming off-season.”

“Hey!”

“Just joking,” Victor says. He reaches for Yuuri’s hand and kisses each finger carefully. He lets his lips linger over the engagement ring. “You know I love you, right?”

Yuuri deflates into his touch. Nothing's changed. “Yeah."

“Good. You know, I’ve been thinking... it’s okay you only got silver this year,” he says with a straight face. He taps at the ring. “We’ve got our gold right here.”

Yuuri almost flips the cart from throwing a pillow at him.


End file.
